


Nice Shoes

by Gibson



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-30
Updated: 2003-09-30
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gibson/pseuds/Gibson
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atSpooky Awards, and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address onSpookyAwards' collection profile.





	Nice Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Nice Shoes

## Nice Shoes

### by Gibson

Title: Nice Shoes  
Author: Gibson  
Rating: R for strong language  
Category: MSR/ Humor  
Date: Started 6/23/2003 finished 7/1/2003 Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer...any others, please ask first, I'll most likely be flattered and send it to you without hesitation :D.  
Disclaimer: They ARE mine. Chris Carter took a small sketch I wrote in grade school and stole it create The X Files. Granted, he did add some of his own improvements and ideas, but the basic idea was mine. I'm going to sue him for every penny he's made on my characters. ;) Feedback: I enjoy hearing all your comments, good, bad, indifferent. Drop me a line 

Author's Notes: If you believe my disclaimer, please email me before you call Good Morning America ;). (psst. Little secret, they really aren't mine ;)). 

Dedication: This is for Sallie: our rock, our den mother, and our direct line to the Almighty. Thank you for being the most supportive, generous and genuine person I know. Hugs. 

Stay tuned for more notes at the end ;). 

Click-clack, click-clack. 

The dark-haired man looked up from the papers that he'd been reading. Someone was coming. The nameplate resting precariously on the end of the paper-covered desk read Fox Mulder, Special Agent. 

%^%^%^%^ 

The woman walking down the empty, poorly lit hall, her three-inch heels making a distinctive click-clack sound, was petite. Even if her frame was small, there was power and assurance in the way that she carried herself. Her was hair was coppery and collected what little light was present in the hallway. In each hand, she held a steaming cup. 

Turning quickly, she walked through a door marked: 

Fox Mulder  
Special Agent 

Without pausing, she turned to face the man at the desk. "Morning Mulder" 

The man at the desk smiled and replied, "Morning, Scully". 

%^%^%^%^ 

What in the hell did Scully have on her feet? He'd heard her as soon as she got off the elevator. Scully never made that much noise. Mulder looked down and couldn't help but notice Scully's apparently new shoes as he accepted the coffee cup she held out to him. 

Mulder couldn't believe that the three-inch, black strappy shoes before him were on the feet of his partner. These were what were classically referred to as "fuck me" shoes and he'd never considered that his partner might even own a pair. 

With a grin he said, "Nice shoes, Scully. New?" and moved onto the next order of business. "We've got a ten o'clock meeting with Skinner to go over these reports" he gestured vaguely towards his desk. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Scully sat and watched as Mulder took in her new shoes. She'd seen them on sale Sunday afternoon. She'd been looking for a new pair of heels--a regular event. Working with Mulder was hard on her shoes. She'd had more pairs ruined in the past 6 years than in the remainder of her life combined. Her shoes had been submerged, shredded, broken, stained and generally damaged. It wouldn't have been so bad if her partner wasn't so damn tall. She not only had to find professional, comfortable footwear in her size (hard enough when you were a size six: retailers seem to believe all people that size six are 16 and consequently, only wear the hippest new sandals), but she also had to buy three-inch heels in order not to look like a child next to Mulder. 

Over the years, she'd begun to get a sense of which stores would have the kind of shoes she needed. Nice, durable, solid heeled shoes. Spike heels would be impossible as well as impractical. Beyond the fact that she always felt as though she teetered when she walked, she needed shoes that had a good solid heel that would stay attached when she went running after mutant, monster or Mulder. Plus, she couldn't afford a damaged ankle. 

Her very specific shoe needs dictated that she go shoe shopping at least once a month. She went through, on average, a pair a month, shopping regularly was the only way to insure a regular supply of footwear. She'd even been known to buy two or three pairs of the same shoes at a time in order to insure she had them. 

Sunday, she'd been in the mall and happened to glance over a prom display. Normally she'd have moved on, but the shoes at the center of the display had caught her attention. Prom time was always a good time to find dressier, sexier shoes because retailers knew that even the small-footed girl needed a nice pair of dancing shoes. 

She'd gone in and picked up the shoes. They were strappy: composed almost entirely of medium sized straps that criss-crossed up the top of the foot. They were the required height and the required thickness of heel, and more importantly they were the right size. Glancing only briefly at the twenty-two dollar price tag, Scully took the shoes to the register. 

It was only after she got home and examined her purchases, two pairs each of black and blue heels plus the strappy heels, that she began to wonder why she'd bought the sexy shoes. At the time some fleeting image of dancing with a tall-handsome man had persuaded her to plunk down her Visa platinum, but it seemed that she'd been foolish. Why had she bought going-out shoes when she never went out? Well, except for Mulder, but they never really went out. Once in a while they'd grab Chinese or Italian after work if it was late, but they certainly never just for the kind of entertainment that these shoes begged for. 

She'd packed the shoes carefully back in the box and placed the receipt in the bag. Placing the bag on the table, she'd prepared herself to return the shoes. She had no reason to wear them, she may as well return them so some young girl could wear them to her prom. 

Except she hadn't returned the shoes. Every morning as she left for work and every evening when she returned, the shoes sat on her table. Until this morning as she'd been getting dressed. She'd reached out, pulled out the box and opened it. The shoes were as beautiful and sexy as she'd remembered. With a sigh she'd put them on with her shorter black skirt and lower white blouse and nicer black jacket. And then she'd decided, what the hell. They were working in the office all day, finishing up expense reports, reimbursement filing for Mulder's last medical mishap, and meeting with Skinner. She wouldn't have to chase after anything or anyone except the elusive medical claims representative who, rumors said, got caller id expressly for the purpose of screening calls from the X-Files Division. He'd been known to mutter that they might have the highest solve rate, but they also had the highest number of medical claims too. 

So, with a smile she'd grabbed her coat and keys and left for work. 

"Scully, are you in there?" 

A flesh colored blob flashed before her eyes. 

Blinking she looked up, into Mulder's face. 

"Oh, sorry, just thinking about something." 

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" his lips twisted into his signature "I can keep a secret" grin and his eyebrow attempted to quirk. 

"Just thinking about how we're going to start stalking Jim Richards in Medical Claims if he doesn't return your calls today. " 

"You realize that stalking is against the law in all 50 states, right?" 

"Mulder, do you really want to be billed for $13,456.78 for your last hospital visit." 

With that the grin left his face, "Er...no." 

"Well then." This time it was her turn to grin and quirk an eyebrow. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Mulder looked down into Scully's grinning face. He knew she hadn't zoned out on him to think about that prick in Medical Claims whose grand plan was to avoid Mulder until the reimbursement date expired on his claim and therefore save the Bureau $13,456.78. However, he wasn't going to push because she might realize that he hadn't been entirely focused on today's agenda either. 

It was those shoes. Those un-Scully shoes on Scully's feet. He'd been telling her about today's meeting with Skinner, but he'd still be thinking about those shoes. Then he remembered a lunch he'd had with Agent Furlow a month or so ago. They'd been sitting there shooting the breeze. Scully was at Quantico teaching a seminar class for the afternoon and Mulder had decided to have lunch in the cafeteria. Dan had called him over and they'd had lunch together. Somewhere between the meatloaf and the gravy with potatoes, Dan had told Mulder about a game him and his buddies had played over beer and a playoff game. 

"Well, it's like this, women--they're all the time complaining about our lame pick-up lines. 'Course, that doesn't stop 'em from hookin' up with us. Anyway, my buddies and I were sitting thinking of the worst lines we'd ever used that'd actually worked." 

Turns out that the winner had been a buddy of his, Brian, who'd said his worst working line was "Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?" 

Mulder had been staring at Scully's feet in those strappy contraptions wondering if she'd ever heard that line, and more importantly, if it would work. 

It was that last thought that had snapped him out of his reverie only to notice that Scully wasn't paying any attention either. He wasn't a shoe-man; he didn't have a foot fetish, so why in the world was he obsessing over these shoes? 

After calling her name twice, he gave up and went over to her, passing his hand in front of her face and finally pulling her out of her daze. 

%^%^%^%^ 

A tall man, his hair tousled and his jacket only just shrugged on, Special Agent Fox Mulder enters the hallway and stands aside for his red-haired partner to precede him into the hall. Turning, he shuts and locks the door, remarkable only because he checks the lock twice. Striding next to his partner, he places his hand familiarly in the small of her back, an action so smooth and graceful that it must be routine. Their paces are perfectly matched, noteworthy because of the still formidable height difference despite the heels on Special Agent Dana Scully. These two have been together a long time, their comfort with each other, the ease of modification for the height or exuberance of another, the way that they project an air of "two against the world," these two are truly connected. 

%^%^%^%^ 

"Have a seat Agents," said Skinner as they enter his office. "Do you have the report from the last case?" 

"Yes Sir," said Scully, crossing her ankles and inadvertently drawing Mulder's attention. 

Skinner flipped through the pages in the manila folder, noting the pertinent facts: suspect was the owner of a tap dancing boxer, victim was the owner of a pedigree, pom-pom toting poodle, Mulder was hospitalized from injuries sustained due to interference by said boxer when attempting to apprehend suspect. Mulder was subsequently thrown headfirst down three flights of stairs. Injuries sustained were: multiple lacerations incurred by the fall, one sprained ankle administered by Bronxie the boxer's leash, his 32nd concussion sustained when his admittedly hard head hit the second floor landing, one fairly serious dog bite bestowed by Bronxie as Mulder attempted to regain his feet and one pair of forty dollar high-heeled shoes owned by Special Agent D. Scully, ruined by Bronxie when she attempted to assist one Special Agent F. Mulder. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Skinner was still digesting the casualty list when Mulder saw them. Admittedly, he had seen them before at a post-case pizza and movie, at a 1 A.M. pajama-clad conference in a hotel room, but never before at work. And never like this. 

Scully's toes were visible through her sheer-toed hose, peeking out at him through the straps of those incredibly inappropriate shoes. She should know better than to wear shoes like that at work, why, you never know what someone might say. Perhaps he should warn her, he knew how much she valued her reputation. 

Wait a minute, these were just shoes. Granted, they were sexy shoes, but they were only shoes. He was losing his mind, but it wasn't his fault, it was the polish. 

Scully had painted her toenails a slightly darker coral. Normally, he wouldn't even have noticed, especially with hose on, but those shoes were drawing attention to her feet and it was those toes that had caught his attention. They were small, cute, and perfectly proportioned, all in all, Scully had very nice feet, which he'd known, somewhere, in the back of his mind, but this was the first time he'd even considered the existence of her feet at work. 

Pulling his attention back to the room, he heard Skinner addressing Scully. 

%^%^%^%^ 

"It says here that the Bureau is to reimburse you for a pair of shoes. What exactly happened to them Agent Scully?" 

"Sir, as I checked Agent Mulder's vitals and removed the dog from his thigh, it turned on me and urinated on my right foot. After I discerned the extent of both his probable and visible injuries, I attempted to assist him into a sitting position as the stairs were still in use. At that time, the dog, Bronxie, attacked my left foot, damaging the shoe and in fact he was able to remove it from my foot whereupon he immediately began to destroy it." 

"I see," said a rather bemused Skinner. "Agent Mulder, this report seems fairly straightforward, is there anything you feel needs clarification?" 

Snapping his head up, Mulder paused to consider the question. 

"No Sir, I think that the report is fairly clear." 

"Well then Agents, may I suggest that you both enjoy your weekends and try to stay in the Hoover Building for the next couple of weeks. The case handler assigned to the X Files Division over in Medical Claims is threatening to quit if he gets one more claim this month." With a grin, Skinner closed the file and ushered the Agents out of his office. 

Sitting back down at his desk, he wondered if Scully had any idea what her shoes were doing to Agent Mulder. 

%^%^%^%^ 

"Scully," Mulder said as they entered the empty elevator, "I've got to run a couple of errands during lunch. I'll catch you later" 

Then, as the elevator door pinged and began to open, he remembered Dan's buddy. As he walked off the elevator he added, "oh, and Scully, I just wanted to say again, those are 'nice shoes'." With a grin and a wink he walked away, cherishing the sight of Scully's bemused face as the elevator doors closed. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Nice shoes. 

What was that supposed to mean? Obviously Mulder thought it should have some significance or he wouldn't have winked when he said. What could he have possibly meant? Did he think her shoes were inappropriate? Was he actually trying to compliment her? Was there some joke she just didn't get? 

Scully puzzled as she ate her cheeseburger. She'd decided that today was going to be a day of treats: a nice juicy cheeseburger, thick greasy French fries and sexy shoes. 

Convinced that if Mulder had really meant something by the comment he would have clarified, Scully enjoyed her sandwich and walked back to their office. 

%^%^%^%^ 

~Two Weeks Later~  
~ Bill's Best Barbecue~  
~Samtil, Virgina~ 

The man matches his considerably longer stride to that of the woman and still manages to gracefully reach and open the door before her. He is the same man who was bent so industriously over papers a mere two weeks ago. She is the woman with the burnished hair who so strode so confidently through the halls and brought him coffee. 

Today however, they both look the worse for wear. The man is considerably more disheveled than we last saw him. His jacket and tie are both gone and it appears as though his pants are going to need to be replaced. Today he towers over his partner, almost a foot taller than her in her white Nike sneakers. Her hair is mussed, her blouse has unidentifiable stains and she's lost her preferred footwear somewhere, resorting to tennis shoes that reveal their true disparity in size. 

They've come here for barbecue and it looks as though they've already had a daunting day. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Carefully Scully eased herself down onto the toilet seat, contemplating her white Nike's. Or perhaps that should be formerly white Nike's. When the heel had broken off her black heels, she'd known she was out of luck. The blue pumps were still encrusted with mud from the day before and looked as though they might be going to the garbage. There wasn't anywhere in this tiny town that carried dressy shoes in her size, which only left her workout Nike's. Three years old and comfortable, they certainly weren't going to set a new trend in business casual. Nor would her muddy, bloody dress shirt, she thought looking down. 

%^%^ 

"Janet, how'd last night go?" 

"Well, we went into Gomery to go to a club, Katie and me, when we got there, this cute city-boy came up to me and you'll never guess what he said!" 

"What? Tell Me!' 

"Well, he looked down at my favorite black sandals and said 'nice shoes, wanna..." 

"He didn't! I hope you told him were he could take his offer." 

"Well, I told him where I came from nice boys didn't talk to girls like that, and he told me he weren't no nice boy." 

"Oh my!" 

%^%^ 

Scully looked up from her shoes, catching the conversation of the two teenagers who'd just entered the bathroom. Something the girl had just said jogged her memory. Something that Mulder had said...something a couple of weeks ago...when she was wearing those new shoes...what was it? 

Suddenly, Mulder's grin popped into her face and she saw him wink and say 'oh, and Scully, I just wanted to say again, those are nice shoes.' 

The memory came flooding back and blood rushed into her face. 

Nice shoes, eh? 

With a grin of her own she eased out of the stall and over to the sink. Damn mud monster. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Mulder looked up as Scully came toward the table. He ached, his whole body hurt, but at least he didn't look as bedraggled as Scully. 

The local legend about Mud Monsters had been true. 'Course when you're living in an area with potholes the size of some states, there's no wonder something decides to make one of them home. 

The creature, whatever it was, was dead now, though it nearly took them with it. The lab would be running tests right now and he and Scully would have to file a report on Monday, but for now they could enjoy some of Bill's fine cooking , buy some aspirin and get to bed early. 

Scully sat down and she had the most peculiar look on her face, as though she'd just found out a secret and didn't want to share. 

"What's up Scully?" 

"Oh, nothing. Just something I heard in the ladies room, girl talk. You wouldn't be interested." 

He was as game as the next guy to pull the information out of her, but something about the combination of 'ladies room' and 'girl talk' convinced him that he probably didn't want to know. 

"Oh, okay, well, I went ahead and ordered. They've really only got one thing on the menu." 

%^%^%^%^ 

As she listened to Mulder, Scully wondered what she should do with her new found information. How could she put it to maximum use? 

She pondered this as she ate her way through a mammoth sized barbecue sandwich and an equally large serving of chips and two Diet Pepsi's. 

She made the appropriate replies to Mulder's comments conversation was minimal. They were both too busy trying to eat. She considered her various options. 

As Mulder paid the check, it occurred to her what she could do. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Mulder was reconsidering his decision not to question Scully on the bathroom incident. She'd been pretty quiet all through dinner and he could see that she was working out something in her mind. She seemed engrossed in whatever it was. Since their case was finished, it must have something to do with whatever she heard in the bathroom. 

He pulled up to the motel and parked. He turned to ask Scully if he could do something to help, when she got out of the car. 

%^%^%^%^ 

Mulder was beginning to suspect something. She could tell by the glances he kept throwing at her as he drove the six blocks from 'the best restaurant in town' to 'the best motel in town'. 

She got out of the car as soon as he parked and began to walk towards their rooms. 

"I don't know about you Mulder, but I'm tired. I think I'm going to take some Tylenol and head to bed. You should probably do the same; I can tell you're beginning to feel stiff." 

%^%^%^%^ 

Mulder looked at her and decided to let it go. Obviously she didn't want to talk about it. 

"Okay, he said. 'Night Scully see you in the morning," and he put the key in the door to his room. 

As he opened the door he heard Scully say, "Oh, and Mulder, I just wanted to say, nice Shoes." 

With a grin she went into her room and locked the door. 

Leaving him to wonder if she knew what effect her words had just had on him.  
**THE END**

The author babbles on: 

First, as many of you know, it's practically impossible to share a piece of writing with the fandom if you don't have a kick-ass beta. For this story I had THREE. Don't ask me what I did to deserve that good fortune, but I'd like to thank Ilke, Carrie and Lorraine for some seriously wonderful suggestions. Your suggestions greatly improved this little fic o' mine. 

Seafarers: There was a discussion about introducing M+S as characters. I tried to do a little of that in this piece. Thanks for always stimulating me. 

The XF Lost and Found Board has my eternal gratitude for answering a continuity question. . .twice! Thanks. 

I chose 6 for Scully based on my own weight and foot measurements. She could probably be anything from a 6-7 depending on the shoes, but I needed the smaller size for my own entertainment ;).   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Gibson


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